


Empty Chairs at the Boardroom Table

by sakuranomi808



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom!Sam, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, HunterCorp Universe (Supernatural), M/M, Mild Gunplay, cockslut!Sam, mention of underage, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuranomi808/pseuds/sakuranomi808
Summary: PWP that takes place entirely in the HunterCorp 'verse, where Sam is still Dean's.
Relationships: HunterCorp Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 151





	Empty Chairs at the Boardroom Table

Jimmy was at the front of the room presenting the year-end financial summary when Sam pushed open the double-doors to the conference room. The meeting had started fifteen minutes ago, and eleven pairs of eyes turned to look at Sam as he noisily came in and took his seat near the head of the table. No one spoke a word though, not even Jimmy, who seemed flustered at the interruption but took it as an opportunity to flip through the notes scribbled on the stapled pages in front of him. 

Dean did not look up; he was not the least bit surprised that Sam couldn’t be bothered to make it on time despite the $250K Rolex on his wrist. 

“Go on Mr. Novak,” Dean told the Business Development VP, “We’re listening.” 

“As I was saying, the EV/EBITDA ratio was at a solid 8 for the fourth quarter. 10 for the year. But we can do better,” he added as he clicked to the next slide. “Let’s take a look at sales opportunities in the pipeline next.”

As Jimmy continued on, Dean’s gaze finally drifted across the huge, polished oak table and landed on his brother. Sam gave him a small, tight smile as he opened the bottle of water in front of him and took a sip. A look of disdain twisted his features as he glanced at the label and set the bottle back down in disgust. Moderately amused, Dean slid his own bottle of peach flavored Perrier across the table, trading it for the offensively unflavored water that Sam had cast aside. 

Only half-listening to the presentation now, Dean’s mouth curved into a smile as he watched his brother wrap his lips around the bottle and take a drink, dragging the pink tip of his tongue across the rim before setting it back down. Only Sam, in his perfectly tailored charcoal slacks and starched white dress shirt, could make drinking a bottle of sparkling water look so scandalous. 

Dean shifted in his seat, trying to adjust his quickly hardening cock so that it wasn’t pressed so painfully against the back of his zipper. To the hundreds of employees of HunterCorp, the true nature of their relationship was based purely upon whispered rumors and conjecture, but Dean really didn’t need any fuel added to that fire; especially not when Dad was on the cusp of retirement and Dean was poised to take his place as CEO. 

At some point, the meeting ended, and the other board members shuffled quietly out of the room, leaving Sam and Dean alone as the doors slammed loudly shut. Dean rose to his feet abruptly, his chair rolling back to crash against the wall behind him as he circled the table. Sam was on his feet in a heartbeat, tall and indignant as Dean closed the space between them. 

“Take this off,” Dean said, tugging at Sam’s dress shirt to pull it out from where it was neatly tucked into his slacks. 

“I will not,” Sam replied evenly as he tried, and failed, to grab Dean’s wrists to stop him.

“You think this is a game?” A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Dean’s throat as he easily evaded his brother’s grasp and instead spun Sam around into the edge of the table, keeping him pinned there with his own chest pressed tight to Sam’s back. 

“If it is, you’re clearly losing,” Sam shot back, pushing his hips back to grind his ass against Dean’s stiff length.

One of them always caved first -- usually Sam -- but this time Dean was so hard that it was actually starting to ache. He could barely think of anything beyond Sam: the way he looked, so smartly dressed and begging to be debauched; and the way he smelled, like gunpowder and cologne and sex. Dean fitfully undid Sam’s belt and dragged his zipper down, shoving at his brother’s slacks and underwear until they pooled around his calves. 

“Dee, remember - ‘safety first’,” Sam tsked softly. He then reached down to pull a 9mm Glock from its holster on his ankle and set it down on the table in front of them. 

Dean absently hummed in agreement as he hurriedly unzipped his own slacks and pulled his dick out of the front of his boxers. He’d left his pistol locked in a drawer back at his desk; who brought a loaded gun to a board meeting, anyway? Sam, as prissy and proper as he was most of the time, was also a fucking lunatic, and that really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. 

“Spit,” Dean said, shoving his hand in front of his brother’s face.

Sam didn’t say anything, but he did as Dean asked, even shuffling his feet apart and leaning forward with his palms flat against the table, rumpled dress-shirt hiked up under his armpits. Dean quickly slicked up his erection with his brother’s mildly peachy saliva and then lined himself up, forcing the hard, rounded head of his cock past Sam’s clenched opening. Both of them groaned at the too-dry slide of friction as Dean slowly pushed in further, inch by inch.

“Breathe, Sammy,” Dean murmured, petting over Sam’s bare hip. “Relax and let me in.” He didn’t stop until he was balls-deep in his brother’s ass when, to his surprise, Sam laughed softly. “Something funny, little brother?” 

“You still talk to me like I’m a teenager sometimes,” Sam said, tossing a glance over his shoulder. He had that familiar glint in his eye -- part spoiled rich kid and part petulant kid brother -- and it was as amusing as it was infuriating, even after all these years. “I’m just- nostalgic, is all.” 

Without warning, Dean pulled his hips back and roughly thrust back in, both of them moaning again as muscle memory helped them settle into a quick and brutal rhythm. Sam loved to remind his brother how young he was when Dean had taken his virginity; found some sort of twisted satisfaction in the guilt that Dean still harbored over the way that things had started between them all those years ago. But Dean didn’t feel guilty right now, couldn’t think of anything else but the primal need to fuck, to claim what had always been his. 

Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulder for leverage and reached around to start stroking his brother’s dick with the other. Objectively speaking, Sam was fucking huge all over; his cock was thick and long, hard as nails at the drop of a hat, but inexplicably he was also the world's biggest cock-slut, coming the hardest when Dean's cock was stuffed in his ass. Sam bit back a moan and began to rut into Dean’s fist, his head lolling forward, hanging heavy between his shoulders. Dean continued to mindlessly fuck into Sam’s warm, slick heat, chasing after his own pleasure, racing toward the release that he so desperately needed. It was quiet in the room now, only the sound of their ragged, labored breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the silence between them. 

Dean came suddenly with a grunt, stilling his frantic movements as he pushed in impossibly deeper, his balls tightening as he unloaded into his brother’s clenched channel. Sam came a second later, his cock jerking hard as he spilled over Dean’s fist, splattering the perfectly polished table in front of them with streaks of his come. Dean continued to work his brother through it, grinning faintly as the last few dribbles of Sam's release landed on the barrel of his Glock. 

Sam was quiet as he pushed himself upright and Dean’s softening flesh slipped from his puffy, used hole. When he turned to face Dean, their lips met easily and effortlessly, mouths sliding together for a few peaceful moments. 

"You better help me clean this up," Dean told his brother, gesturing vaguely at the mess they'd left on the table.

"Or else what?" Sam scoffed. He had mostly straightened his clothes out though, even looked almost presentable again aside from the thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. 

"Or I'll tell Dad not to let you take the yacht out this weekend," Dean said, turning to rummage around in a cabinet for a moment before coming up with a package of wipes. 

Words escaped Dean entirely when Sam picked up his pistol and licked a broad stripe over the smooth gunmetal to clean off his own come. "Bet you won't," Sam said softly.

Dean shifted uncomfortably as his sticky, spent cock twitched in interest again and Sam closed the distance between them, that familiar glint in his eyes once more.


End file.
